Whatever It Is (it's probably not a parasite)
by knock.again.please
Summary: They don't know what to call it, which is just as well because whatever it is seems too big, too strange, and too important to be contained in a combination of letters. It was frightening at first; so much that Purple had become convinced he was host to some kind of parasite that would eventually burst through his chest in an explosion of gore (cute, clueless RAPR).


**A/N:** Um, super-belated Merry Chrismukkah, MagentaMauve! i am apparently incapable of _not_ shipping these two, so you got RAPR, but it's cute and mostly clueless. thank you for beta-ing literally _hundreds_ of pages of _No Return_ , your patience, and our awesome conversations!

 **whatever it is (it's probably not a parasite)**

Red's eyes fall on the half-shadowed figure of his partner from across the room, watching as Purple idly peruses objects on Red's desk. His long, graceful fingers lift various trinkets up to his face for closer examination, then place them back down again before something else catches his attention.

Purple isn't usually one for such caution. Red knows only reason Purple doesn't drop these items carelessly or toss them aside is because they're _Red's_ , and he can't help but smile fondly at the thought. He exhales, shaking his head as that peculiar sensation only Purple seems to provoke settles in his chest. They don't know what to call it, which is just as well because whatever it is seems too big, too strange, and too important to be contained in a combination of letters.

It was frightening at first; so much that Purple had become convinced he was host to some kind of parasite that would eventually burst through his chest in an explosion of gore. He'd thrown the three medics who disagreed with his baseless assessment out the airlock before storming off to find Red so he could rant about the incompetent staff and the lamentable state of Irken medicine.

Red had listened to Purple with growing concern because while Purple had always been prone to the dramatic, Red had been experiencing similar symptoms and the thought was rather distressing. He pushed the terrible, gnawing fear of chest-rupturing parasites to the back of his mind as best he could, and focused instead on calming Purple (and thereby himself) down.

He tried everything he knew to distract, convince, and reassure his partner, but Purple wouldn't budge. This conviction did nothing to assuage Red's own nagging worries, and so, he had offered to stay with Purple during the night incase something happened. Red wasn't sure what use he would be if a massive, carnivorous worm-beast _did_ erupt from his co-Tallest's chest cavity, but Purple explained that Red would be bound to avenge his death, or, failing that, at least have the courtesy to die, too.

Red just sighed as Purple dragged himself into bed with the macabre gloom of a condemned man, absolutely certain he was going to experience death-by-parasite.

Irkens didn't technically _need_ sleep, but it was a wonderfully indulgent luxury so both of them made it a regular habit. When Red woke the following morning, he discovered that he hadn't minded sharing a bed with Purple. Sure, the violet-eyed Irken snored like an aggressive bandsaw, but Red was, apparently, a _very_ heavy sleeper because the thunderous sound hadn't bothered him at all. Purple drooled, but not on Red, so that was forgivable, too. He was warm and comfortable, and Red was all about comfort.

That weird pressure in his chest wasn't nearly so constricting now as it had been. He still felt _something_ there, but it was calm and pleasant and sort of squishy, so if it were a parasite, at least it was a nice one. He felt reasonably confident he could rule that out, though. It seemed far more likely that whatever it was, it had to do with Purple.

Even after Red offered his alternate theory, Purple was still hesitant to let go of his hypothesis. According to him, the parasite was just waiting for his guard to drop so it could strike. He did agree that he was far less terrified when Red was around, so Red would just have to stay until Purple could be sure. Red sighed and humored Purple as he always did.

Yes, it was unusual, but most things about their friendship (including its existence) were uncommon among their kind. Irkens didn't play games with each other, or tease in good humor, or share… anything, really. Purple even shared his _food_ , provided Red whined for long enough.

They had _always_ been different, but that was all right. They were the Tallests, and anyone who tried to tell them what to do could go eat vacuum. There were three medics floating around somewhere in space who could testify to that. Or they _would_ , provided they hadn't been asphyxiated.

A few months later, Red offered to go back to his room, but Purple immediately vetoed the notion.

 _"Why? Still worried about the 'parasite'?"_ Red teased.

 _"No,"_ Purple replied, sounding almost bored, _"I want you here."_

 _"Okay."_

That was all there was to it, really. Aside from Purple's tendency to hog the blankets, it was perfect, and Red could hardly find reason to complain about that because he usually monopolized the pillows. The resulting arguments were always more playful than agitated, and things might have continued like that forever if Purple hadn't begun asking questions.

 _"Hey Red, can I touch your arm?"_

 _"Why?"_

A shrug, _"I want to."_

 _"Okay."_

Another time:

 _"Can I touch your shoulder?"_

 _"Why?"_

A shrug, _"I want to."_

 _"Okay."_

Red didn't mind it at all; he found Purple's touch relaxing and the more time passed, the more he found himself looking forward to it. When he was stressed or irritable, Purple's fingertips would draw invisible shapes against the backs of his hands, inside his wrists, or along his forearms; the delicate, vulnerable places an Irken knew better than to expose. Contact with them, even as light and glancing as Purple's was, should have made him flinch away and snarl protectively. Of course, this didn't occur to him until he'd been reciprocating the gestures for some time.

He ran his fingers over the pulse in Purple's wrist, feeling the gentle rhythm of his life underneath. All that separated them in that moment was a few millimeters of skin, and he recognized for the first time just how _close_ they were. There was something marvelous and frightening about that revelation.

Sometimes, when Purple touched him, it was hard to think and he made strange, involuntary noises that amused Purple to no end, so naturally, Red felt obligated to drag similarly embarrassing sounds out of Purple. Red enjoyed this just as much as he did the other sorts of touches, but in a different way.

Then, Purple had asked:

 _"Can I kiss you?"_

Red looked confused, _"You want to do what now?"_

 _"That thing where you close your eyes and press mouths together."_

Red cocked an absent eyebrow as though Purple had lost his mind, _"Sounds… unsanitary."_

 _"Well, I want to try it."_

Red sighed and acquiesced, closing his eyes. No matter how gross it might be, he was pretty sure it wouldn't be as bad as the time he'd had to cut a Gharp open and use its dead carcass for warmth. And even if it was, it would at least _smell_ better.

The contact was soft and quick, just the briefest, glancing warmth, but it shocked him like 200,000 volts of electricity. His eyes shot open and his breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribs and he wondered if maybe Purple had been right after all, and the parasite had just gone dormant, biding its time.

Purple's quiet giggle shook him from his daze and he managed to start breathing again. His lips still hummed.

 _"Was it as bad as you thought?"_

 _"Worse."_

Purple looked absolutely crushed.

 _"It was much too quick. You'll have to try it again."_

Purple slapped Red's arm playfully and the grin returned to his face before he brought his mouth to Red's again.

Everything else had followed from there in it's own time; a series of gentle nudges and awkward (sometimes messy) stumbling, but all of it beautiful in its own strange way. Across the room, Purple's figure glows softly around the edges closest to the light, leaving shadows to flood his contours and Red understands for a moment what compels primitive creatures to paint. More beautiful than an exploding star, an organic sweep, or the universe's most shimmering laser is his partner wearing Red's silk sleeping robe knotted loosely at the waist, as he pokes and prods Red's collection of mementos and toys.

How unlikely, yet how inevitable they are in this infinite, multitudinous universe.

Purple finally turns his gaze toward Red and evaluates his partner's expression.

"What?" He asks curiously.

"Come here," Red replies gently, patting the empty space on the mattress beside him.

Purple smiles, feigning innocence, "What if I want to come _here_?"

Red sighs, shakes his head, and smiles.

Whatever Purple wants, he gets.

* * *

yes, part of me considered adding an actual parasite at the end, but just couldn't bring myself to do it.


End file.
